Morning Breath
by katierosefun
Summary: [Post-8x04, 'Before the Flood'.] In which Clara needs to remind the Doctor that really, after everything she's been through, she really doesn't care too much about morning breath. [Whouffaldi.]


Hello, everyone! Katierosefun aka Caroline here! I would assume this story is a little late, considering we're already done with the _Under the Lake/Before the Flood_ episodes, but I wrote this a while ago and I only just got to finish it this morning. And so, after just a bit of brushing up on the story, I decided I ought to post it. (Besides, I've been just itching to write Whouffaldi lately. Who else screamed at Clara putting her hand on the Doctor's cheek? I swear that this whole season is just Whouffaldi. Everywhere.)

Enjoy!

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 ** _Morning Breath_**

"One more thing we need to cover," Clara said, leaning casually against the railing. She pretended to inspect her nails (though there really wasn't much to inspect) and added, "You know, just before we leave on the next adventure. Or the next whatever you've got planned."

"One more thing?" the Doctor asked, though his voice was light. "I've explained the paradox. I've explained the ghosts and the holograms and even the features in the sonic sunglasses - which, by the way, I think I might actually keep. Much more stylish, in my opinion, and not always as troubling to carry around without looking suspicious. Any bloke can wear them, anyways."

Clara grinned. "While that's all good and clever and important-sounding," she said, hopping away from the railing, "there's still one more little thing we need to properly talk about."

The Doctor folded his arms over his chest. "And that is?"

Clara didn't bother answering right away. She took a few steps closer to the Doctor; he didn't move away either, to her relief. He stood still, keeping his stormy eyes focused on Clara, even though they were just breaths apart. The Doctor tilted his gaze down at Clara's face, the look in them challenging, as though daring Clara to come any closer.

She dared.

In a soft, teasing voice, Clara whispered, "I don't mind morning breath at all, you know. Just a fun fact about me."

"A fun fact," the Doctor echoed back.

"Mm-hm," Clara was closer to the Doctor now. Her toes were slowly tipping upwards - her body rocked gently towards the Doctor. She lifted her chin to take a better look at him - and only got her face halfway up before the Doctor was leaning down to catch her lips.

Clara's lips curved into a smile as she tilted her head to the side, meeting the Doctor's lips at each moment. He leaned back until he was resting on the console. Clara kept him there, letting her hands fall to each of his sides. She traced her (already) numb lips down the Doctor's chin - down his neck - and let them linger there.

"It's funny," she breathed. "I can't really smell the morning breath you were talking about."

"Maybe you took it."

Clara laughed into the Doctor's neck - and it might have been an automatic move, but Clara didn't miss the way the Doctor's hand reached up to massage her back. Clara let her head fall to the Doctor's shoulder. Feeling her face heat up (in exhilaration, in excitement – it always seemed to be the same to her), she murmured, "You do realize that to get a morning breath, you'd have to be asleep first."

"I'm sure there's some places in the TARDIS that are suitable."

"That sounds...good. Great," Clara leaned into the Doctor again. "Besides, my neighbors were starting to complain. They're onto us."

xXx

Clara woke up with the sheets only a little tucked away from her thighs. She felt the Doctor's warm hand pressed down on the curve of her waist, his other hand cradling her head. Clara turned a little - she found the Doctor's face turned slightly to her, his eyebrows only a little drawn together. Clara slowly turned her body all the way around so that she'd properly face him.

With a small smile, Clara rested a hand on the Doctor's chest. She rubbed her thumb affectionately over it for a few moments before she felt the Doctor's grip tighten around her.

"You're awake," Clara whispered.

"'omething like that," came the Doctor's sleepy response.

Clara propped herself up on her elbows, letting the Doctor's hand slip away from her waist. "Oi," she teased, poking the Doctor on the shoulder. "Come on, you - it's rude to doze back off when someone's talking to you." She let out a small squeal of surprise as the Doctor abruptly clapped a hand over her lips. Eyes still closed, the Doctor replied, "I don't have my cards, Clara; can't tell if something's rude or not right now."

Clara pried the Doctor's hand off her mouth. Snorting softly, she sat up and said, "Look at you - always telling me, _I don't sleep, Clara,_ and _I'm not tired at all, Clara._ " She slipped out of the bed, and placing her hands on her hips, she added pointedly, "Now look at you. I'm almost tempted to say that the ghosts were what made you so tired."

The Doctor's eyes cracked open, looking like nothing more than little slits of silver. "Not the ghosts," he murmured.

"Hm?"

"The ghosts didn't make me tired."

Clara grinned. She kneeled back on the bed, asking innocently, "And what _did_ make you tired?"

"...I'm not going to answer that."

Clara let out a small laugh. She slipped back under the covers and before the Doctor could protest, she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. The Doctor tilted his face towards her, and for the first time this morning (was it morning? Clara couldn't tell), a ghost of a smile flickered over his lips. And then, catching the Doctor by surprise, Clara brushed her lips against his.

When she pulled away, Clara was already getting back up. "I told you I didn't really mind morning breath."

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 **A/N -** This was originally drabble-length, but I decided to lengthen it. *shrugs*

Reviews would be nice! Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not.


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